


reprieve

by orphan_account



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mag 180 Spoilers, No beta we die like archival assistants, No beta we kayak like Tim, Sharing a Bed, Upton House (?), except they both STINK, honestly just me writing this before jonny declares it non-canon later today, just jonmartin softness, like literally salesa said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26740228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: jon and martin prepare to face whatever’s going on at the house.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	reprieve

Of all the places Jon had ever woken up, in the arms of Martin Blackwood was far from the worst. In fact, he’d go so far as to say it was one of the best, if not the best. It was comfortable here, and the steady rising and falling of Martin’s chest as he slept was extremely relaxing. It wasn’t perfect - Jon’s hair was partially trapped under the arm Martin had wrapped around him, and his injured leg was at an awkward angle, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

_ Actually, yes I would _ , Jon thought as the smell hit him. 

He had been awoken by the soft light filtering through the curtains and directly into his face, and it took him a moment to blink his eyes open so they could begin to adjust. After a brief moment of white, his vision faded in just to tell him that he did not recognise the room he was in. 

The moment of comfortable bliss had passed, and Jon came to his senses and realised where - and when - he was. He remembered the house, untouched by the apocalypse, and then Annabelle Cane herself answering the door, seeming much too mild for an avatar of a fear god. Then, a man. Salesa. And then, nothing. 

Oh god, did he and Martin pass out on the spot? That was embarrassing. He guessed that travelling with no food or sleep for weeks would have... far from ideal side effects when put back in reality, and the thing that had dragged him out of his sleepy bliss, the smell of the two of them, was enough to prove that. 

And the hunger. Not the usual hunger Jon felt, the hunger for statements, for fear - actual hunger. His stomach growled and he nearly cried with relief. The itch for a statement was still there, but it was lesser than it had ever been. Jon guessed that was fair - he couldn’t use his powers here to Know anything, so it made sense that the hunger lessened. It was a welcome feeling though. 

Less welcome was the stink, which was slowly driving Jon mad, and so he looked around the room. It was a perfect replica of every National Trust house he’d visited as a child (and they were almost all the same, really), with an old-fashioned patterned wallpaper (William Morris, he knew without Knowing), sturdy yet elegant wooden furniture, and a generous collection of flowers in vases on every surface. 

It was actually slightly ridiculous. There was a fireplace, unlit and with, of course, a vase of flowers in front of it. A table, with a vase of flowers on it. A vase of flowers on the windowsill, silhouetted against the bright sky. The list goes on. 

There was a door, opened just enough to show a bathroom, and Jon almost weeped for what was not the first time today, and he’d only been awake for a few minutes. 

It was perfect. Not only was there a bathroom, but Martin was still asleep, so Jon could get the first shower in, too. There was only one problem with that, though. 

Martin was, when asleep, a cuddler. At that minute, he had an arm around Jon, pulling him into his chest, and the other rested lightly on his back. Out of sheer curiosity, Jon glanced over to the door, to find the bags they’d been hauling for the walk to London piled up next to the other door, the one that presumably led to the corridor. 

Instinctively, Jon scrutinised the door. Neither of them seemed weird, but he liked to make sure. Just in case. 

Before he could even worry about possibly Distortion doors, though, he had to worm his way out of Martin’s grip - it was surprisingly strong for someone who was asleep, and as much as Jon would usually relish this, the two of them smelled really,  _ really _ bad. 

The first order of business was to move Martin’s arms. Jon was determined to do this without waking Martin up, so he could get in the shower before him, in some weird competitive streak Jon didn’t remember having until recently. This was easier said than done, although with enough wriggling Jon, after several minutes of stopping whenever Martin breathed slightly louder than before, finally managed to separate himself from Martin. He scooted off of the bed, holding onto the bedpost to steady himself as he felt the pain in his leg flare up. 

Apparently, the position he’d slept in had not been one his leg had enjoyed. Jon persevered through it though, the way he had before, and soon he’d made it to the bathroom. Thankfully, it was modern; whether that was an apocalypse-related update or whether it had been updated before that Jon had no idea, but he was grateful anyway. There were also towels, and, Jon noticed clean clothes. Two pairs, to be exact. They weren’t in his or Martin’s exact size, he saw, but they were  clean,  and that’s what was important. From there, he was in and out of the shower in about half an hour (it would have been quicker, but Jon decided to enjoy the hot water as much as possible before his leg told him it was time to sit down). He changed into the smaller set of clothes perched on the sink, and, feeling much more refreshed than he had in probably years, he stepped back out into the bedroom. 

Martin was awake, albeit just, and he gave a sleepy smile and wave as Jon walked in. Then, he wrinkled his nose, and Jon got to witness the funnier-than-it-should-be routine of the smell hitting Martin too. He sympathised, though. 

“Uh, bathroom’s free,” Jon piped up, and Martin, who’d never been one to talk until he was fully awake, dashed in, the water turning on moments later.

That left Jon in the room by himself. He’d already decided he wasn’t going anywhere until Martin was ready, so he entertained himself by looking around again. 

He’d seen the bed was a four-poster earlier, but now he could see the details that hadn’t been obscured by Martin, the elaborate carvings that meant one thing; the furniture in here was old. It was probably one of those rooms that people weren’t supposed to actually use, before the Change, Jon guessed, although that didn’t explain the full en-suite. Maybe they rented it out as a hotel room. 

Crossing over to the window, Jon finally saw the grounds. They were perfectly kept, teeming with plant life, and most importantly, everything looked normal. Even past the grounds. It was like the apocalypse had never happened. Jon wondered if leaving the grounds would be like going through a portal. Would the sky change from the bright, cloudless blue he was seeing to the ever-watching hellscape with a step?

He didn’t want to think about it. 

The shower turned off, much quicker than Jon had probably been, and minutes later Martin emerged, his hair wet and pressed flat against his head, and his skin slightly red from the heat. 

“Nice shower?” Jon asked, and Martin sighed. 

“The best I’ve had in years - no,  _ ever _ .”

Jon grinned, and Martin walked over to join him by the window. 

“It looks so  _ normal _ ,” Martin expressed, awe clear in his voice (as it was a few octaves higher than usual). Jon only hummed in response, his mind focused on something else. 

“They have to be expecting us.”

“Hm, who?”

“Salesa. A- and Annabelle,” Jon didn’t doubt Annabelle would already know they were awake, and the two of them couldn’t hide in this much-too-posh bedroom all day. Martin seemed to think the same thing, as he just reached down to interlace their fingers. 

“Whatever they need, we’ll get through it.” Martin reassured him, and Jon gave a weary smile. 

“Yeah, we will.”


End file.
